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6/ 



FALLEN LEAVES 



BY 

CAROLYN B. LYMAN 




NEW YORIC 
EDWIN C. HILL 

1913 



AUTHOR'S EDITION 

Limited to Five Hundred numbered and registered copies, 
of which this is 

No 

2,3 



75 3 



\V* 



Copyright, 1913, 
By Carolyn B. Lyman 



©CI.A347987 



&e&uatet> 

TO MY SONS 
CHARLES GLENN 

AND 

LAWRENCE LOWELL LYMAN 




Fallen Leaves 

EAVES of dull amber and soft shades of 

gold 

Carpeting over the brown earth and mold, 

Leaves red as sunset — leaves growing sere 

Drifting and rustling and born of the year. 



Floating afar at the winds' might and will, 
Storm-swept and scattered yet beautiful still; 
Hiding earth's sadness with bright bits of cheer, 
Smiles that were born of the springtime and year. 

Leaves — but of thought that with day-dreams unfold, 
Drifting afar to the young and the old ; 
Leaves fraught with gladness, with sadness and tears, 
Storm-swept and scattered and born of the years. 



* 



Life 



'EN as the night breathes on the flower, 
And urges it to gentle sleep, 
Oblivious that it blooms to die — 

Hold sacred, in thy soul's own deep, 
By faith and trust, fast, in thy heart, 
Of Life's great passion-play, one spark. 





Where the Watercress Grows 

ET — O give me long hours 
In the vale, by the stream. 
Where it babbles and laughs 
And its cool waters gleam, 

Where the wind holds the scent 

Of the mint as it blows 
'Long the green tangled bank 
Where the watercress grows. 

Where the hemlock and beech 

Seem to nod as they sway. 
And the bees humming by 
Seem to linger and play 

'Mid the grasses and flowers 

And it may be (who knows?) 
That they too love the vale 
Where the watercress grows. 

Where it trails — softly trails — 

In its dark glossy green- 
Or is just beyond reach 

On the breast of the stream; 

Where the trout seeks its mate 

In its hidden repose, 
For they too love the depths 
Where the watercress grows. 




The Sunrise Seemed a Smile from You 

WATCHED the early sunrise, bright and 
clear, 
The East was all aglow with rosy hue, 
I wondered if you were awake yet, dear — 
Because the sunrise seemed a smile from 
you. 

The night was gone — the gloom that brings heartache 
Was of its shades like clouds to drift away, 

Again I wondered if you were awake 
So sweet was life — to live another day. 

Upon the glowing East I gazed until 

I quite forgot the hours, for me, held care, 

I gazed until I felt the winter chill 

Creep through the pane to find me standing there. 

As turning from the casement, lingering then 
Once more to gaze upon that gorgeous hue, 

My heart was light, for lo, it seemed again — 
The sunrise was a morning smile from you. 




Waking 

HE warm south wind comes whispering 
Along the willow stream, 
With fond sweet breath it gently wakes 
The violets from their dream. 



It murmurs 'long the sunny bank — 

Each ferny hidden nook — 
A low, sweet love-song to the flowers, 

With murmurings of the brook. 

It whispers that the birds are come, 

The robin and the wren. 
Their early song and warbled notes 

Now wake the morn again. 

The children roam the sunny fields ; 

Tis blossom-time — they wait; 
Yet wondering why the flowers dream 

And why they sleep so late. 

It whispers over land and lea : 
The glad spring days are here. 

Each heart, it fills with life and song — 
This waking time of year. 

Upon its breath the butterfly 
Will spread its golden wing; 

Last year before its sleep it was 
A tiny, creeping thing. 

Yet now, how bright the glad new life! 

The flowers, the wings of gold ! 
That Earth held in her bosom, warm. 

Through days of winter cold ! 

10 




O Life, Grant All Ye Promise! 



LIFE, deny me naught 
Of breath, of promise give 

Me power and passion — wrought 
By Thee, — that I may live! 



Give joy or even pain, 
For I would slowly sip — 

Would taste thy wines — the same 
As every mortal lip. 

Give me of worldly strife, 

Of ill — though it drug within, 

The finer being, — Life! 
Could'st be without a sin? 

And I would quaff thy wine, 

As others have before ! 
Their mortal lot be mine! 

Then open wide the door. 

The door that leads to death — 
Ah Life, deny me not! 

To die — is of the breath — 
And then — to be forgot! 



11 



After the Storm 




PON the shore she stands alone — 
Her sad eyes sweep the tossing 
seas; 
She hears, unmoved, the ocean- 
moan. 
Her hair uncoiling in the breeze — 
She stands — how fair! 
Nor does she mind 
Her golden hair 
Torn by the wind! 

A vessel rolls beyond the bar, 

Alas, how near it was to home! 
And she — who was his guiding star. 
She hears, unmoved, the ocean-moan! 
So young — so fair! 

Nor does she mind 
Her golden hair 

Torn by the wind! 

At early morn, at close of day 

She stood upon the shore alone. 
To watch and dream of him. alway; 
(She did not heed the ocean-moan) 
She stands, how fair! 
To-day, nor minds 
Her golden hair 

Torn by the winds! 

12 



Upon the foaming wave a hand 

Seems beckoning — He's coming home 
To her; — lo — tossed upon the sand! 
She hears — she heeds the ocean-moan! 
So young — so fair! 

Nor does she mind, 
Her golden hair 
Torn by the wind! 

She calls his name, nor does she weep ; 

Her clinging arms now wrap him 'round; 
Her golden hair — his shroud, — when creep 
The coming tides with ocean sound! 
So young — so fair! 

Ah, death — how kind! 
No more her hair 
Floats on the wind ! 

Old ocean holds its secrets deep, 

Alway, it claims and keeps its own ; 
The sailor and his bride will sleep 
Nor hear again the ocean-moan. 
So young — so fair! 

Ah, peace be thine! 
His shroud, her hair 
Beneath the brine! 



13 




May 

O! she comes in the sunshine! 
How smiling! how fair! 
From the throat of the warblers 
Her song fills the air. 

With a green, soft and trailing 

O'er hill and o'er dale; 
With a gown trimmed in blossoms 

A white flowing veil. 

On her cheek is the tinting. 
The blush of peach-blow; 

From her crown fall the petals — 
The apple-bloom snow ! 

All the world pays her homage — 

This beautiful queen! 
In her robe of bright blossoms 

And soft trailing green! 

In the bright wings now flitting 
The sunbeams unfold — 

There's a wave of her tresses, 
A gleaming of gold. 

Sweet; ah sweet, her caresses — 
The warm southern breeze. 

With her low, gentle murmur 
Of love through the trees. 

14 



On her breath is a fragrance, 
Found hidden and deep 

In the heart of the wood-flowers 
She wakens from sleep! 




Just a Sift of Ashes 

HERE'S a tiny sift of ashes 
Beside the easy chair, 
It was but a little while ago 
You smiling dropped it there. 

Now the chair is standing empty — 

Your smile — 'tis far away, 
There is but a sift of ashes left — 

A spot of scattered gray. 

Yet, it somehow sets me thinking 

Of Life and maybe you, 
And if anything amounts to more 

Than rings of curling blue. 

If when all is done and over — 
Each bright — each dreary day, 

If this life — its pain and pleasure, then, 
Is more than ashes gray. 



15 




The Fog 

STILL, white thing came from the deep 

And spread its wing 
Above the calm, the sleeping wave 

Low hovering. 
It lay upon the breeze! — behold 

How near — yet — far — 
Obscuring land, the sea, the sky 

And every star! 
It took the harbor as by stealth; 

The boats that lay 
In port — it kept — and held them all 

Within the bay. 
Unmindful of the captain's curse, 

It draped his mast 
With winding sheets of vapor gray 

And held it fast. 
With mothlike wing, it shadowed round 

The tower light; 
It dimmed the signals on the shore 

And hid them quite; 
It held and muffled every sound; 

The cannon's boom 
Rolled o'er the waters dull and dead — 

The voice of doom! 
It hovered o'er distress; it caught 

The last low moan 
Some struggling wretch breathed to his God- 

A prayer for home! 
It heavy grew, as burdened with 

16 



The souls of men 
Held in its keep with solemnness 

Profound ! — and when 
It lifted slowly as a cloud 

To meet the sun, 
E'en rising to the tinted skies, 

Its flight begun ! 
A still, white thing it drifted far 

O'er seas — away. 
While all the world smiled glad and bright, 

Lo, it was day! 



Rain Music 

PATTER ye drops, on my window just 

tap; 
Who would not welcome your low gentle 

rap? 
Patter so lightly I only may know 
The rest of thy music — its rhythmical flow. 

Aye bring to me dreamings of hill and of dale; 
Ways whence ye came and where summer days trail; 
Patter ye drops, on my window just tap, 
To lighten the evening and sweeten my nap. 




17 




The Tempest 

N ominous rumble, distant, far away, 
A clouding of the summer day, 
A rising of the wind, a sudden gust, 
A puff of whirling, yellow dust. 
A flurried rustle 'mong the moving trees. 
The leaves scattering before the breeze, 
The distant low from pastures of the kine. 
The watch-dog's restless, anxious whine. 
A reverberating tumult fills the air. 
The frightened birds dart here and there, 
A suffocating silence, long and deep. 
And then, as though to wake from sleep 
The sacred dead and drag them from their graves. 
The storm in all its fury raves. 

The air grows black and mad — one great dense whirl 
Of objects raised, downward to hurl, 
The tall trees twist and snap, each bush and weed 
Alike fall victim to its greed, 
And lightnings flash as streaks of liquid hell. 
To rend the rocks and earth as well; 
Huge chimneys skyward towering, grand and tall. 
Break clattering, and as pebbles fall ; 
While fiendish voices shriek in broken tones. 
Or madly wail in dying groans. 
Foundations tremble with each wrestling blast. 
Gray sheets of rain drive fierce and fast. 
Peal after peal, hell's gates are open wide. 
Its flames leaping on every side. 
In heart of man — in heart of beast, wakes fear, 
But where for weakness, falls a tear; 

18 



As some huge monster, fraught with fiery might. 

Does battle unto death, in fight, 

The tempest with low growls and mutterings 

Then dies. At dusk the robin sings 

His evening carol to declining day, 

The storm has raged its life away. 




Sea-Foam 

r was only a bit of white sea-foam, 

In the moonlight it lay at my feet; 
Yet it seemed like the soul of a sailor 
That was tossed from the heart of the 
deep; 
On the sands 'mong the shells it lay glisten- 
ing; 
The waves backward rolled in retreat, 
In their loyal return to old ocean, 

And the sailors there, cradled in sleep. 

As I looked on the foam white and glistening. 

Where it quivering lay on the sand, 
I said: "Is this a soul, an immortal?" 

And I gathered it up in my hand; 
Lo! it vanished — I held but the sea-damp, 

The night-winds laughed low 'long the strand: 
"Did you think hands could touch the immortal? — 

Touch a breath of the immortal land!" 



19 




Whither ? 

E clouds at even, 
Ye mists of gold. 
The secret give 

Your bosoms hold; 



lour Dosoms noia; 
The secret of the air, the sky. 
The path where souls go silent by. 



Ye clouds and mists. 

So like life's dream, 
At sunset's hour 

Heaven's gate ye seem; 
To vision bring that mystic way 
Where we alone must pass some day. 

That path unseen 

Where thousands tread. 
Nor imprint leave — 
The silent dead; 
But noiseless walk that mystic aisle 
Alone, unseen, in single file. 

The frosted locks 

And locks of snow. 
The child, the youth. 
How soon they go! 
The mother and her new-born babe 
Pass down the way — from vision fade. 

•20 



Each pays the toll — 
The price is death; 
And leaves this plane 
Of life, of breath; 
But whither, then, the high, the low? 
Where leads this path we all must go? 

Ye clouds at even, 
Ye mists of gold, 
The secret give 

Your bosoms hold; 
The secret of the air, the sky, 
The path where souls go silent by. 




At Eventide 

f ATHER — I'm weary, 
The day has been so full of care, 
So full of little duties, here and there ; 
Lo, now at eventide 

I'd rest me here 
Where twilight wraps me 'round — 
And Thou art near! 

Father — I thank Thee 

That I may fill each niche in life, — 

May hold the place of friend — of mother — wife. 

'Tis sweet to live, and sweet — 

To rest me here, 
Where twilight wraps me 'round — 

And Thou art near! 



21 




A Lover 

LD Death comes slowly down the 
path; 
He gathers here and there a 

flower; 
A full blown rose, a tiny bud. 
Fair blossoms from Life's sweetest bower. 



How cold, how chilling is his breath ! 

All turn from him so grave, so still; 
He fills no breast with love or joy, 

No love-glance gives, no heart-felt thrill. 

Though guarded with thy jealous care 
He'll claim thy sweetheart as his own; 

Both friend and foe alike he wins, 
E'en though the path he walk alone. 

A lover strong and grand is he; 

Lo, wins he not a bride to-day? 
From Love's first bliss and husband's kiss 

He woos and spirits her away. 

Ah, taunt him not, ye glad, ye gay! 

He stands a rival for the fair; 
The sweetest flowers are plucked by him. 

For him they're blooming everywhere. 

Be happy while love still is yours, 
For down the path he winds his way. 

This lover of an olden time; 
This lover of a morrow's day. 



22 




The Vigil of the Pines 

RUSHED is the winter night 
O darksome Pines! 

Save for your sigh, 

Lo, e'en the pale starlight 
No vigil keeps, — 
'Tis you and I. 

The moments haste upon 
Their way, and yet 

The hours but creep 

While wrapped in midnight gloom 
Are we, O Pines, 

The world asleep. 

Asleep, a world asleep ! 
The joy and pain 

To wake with day, 

When life, for some begins 
For others ebbs — 

And drifts away. 

You ever seem to point, 

O darksome Pines, 

Up to the sky, 

While mantled in our gloom 
You murmur low, 

And sigh — and sigh. 



23 




December 

HE blue, blue haze lies o'er the fields. 
So brown, beneath the cooler 
breeze. 
The dim horizon's purple line 
Is now a fringe of leafless trees. 



The distant pine looms tall and grand. 
And sighs, the summer is no more, 

A king it stands, to meet the blasts 
And snows that drift the valleys o'er. 

The blackbirds fly in larger flocks 
To winter homes, and warmer climes 

They settle, black upon the fields 

Then sweep away, as sweep the winds. 

The lowland view is dotted o'er 

With cattle grazing here and there, 

And sifting snowflakes slowly fall 
To float upon the chilling air. 



24 




Sportsman's Weather 

NE may feel it in the breeze — 
Hear it calling through the trees, 
Though 'tis hidden in the gray 
Of the chill December day. 



In the dead grass and the leaves 
There's a something lives and breathes; 
For it came, with footsteps light. 
With the frost, so still and white. 

All the woods that breath now fills 
As it lingers, 'mong the hills, 
And we taste it here and there 
In the keenness of the air. 

In the first few flakes of snow, 
When the winds yet sharper blow, 
When with gun we steal away, 
In the dawn of winter day! 



25 




To a Gull 

SNOWY Gull! Doth thy white 

breast 
No secret hold of Sea's unrest? 



It sighs by day — it moans by night 
Where dips thy wing in tireless flight. 

'Neath fringed cliffs of ice and snow- 
Where breaks the surf on rocks below, 

Where winds blow chill — where waves leap 

high. 
Above the storm is heard thy cry! 

A bit of life amid the gray 

Of moaning sea — of ocean spray ! 

Above the foam a gleaming thing 
A life-spark with a snowy wing! 

Dost know the secret of the Deep 
The cradle where the sailors sleep? 

Dost heed the tide, its ebb — its flow 
Or where the winds so softly go? 

What secret holds thy snowy breast 
Of ocean cave — of sea's unrest? 

All day the waters moan to Thee 
Low murmurs of a winter sea. 



26 




In Summer 

LOSE my heart 

When summer hours 
Bring back the birds, 

The bees and flowers; 
When laughs and sings 

long bright day, 



the 



The little brook along its way; 
I lose my heart. 

A breezy thing, 

It drifts about, 
It tarries where 

The speckled trout 
Are hiding, nor yet does it stay: 
'Tis here and there the livelong day; 
A breezy thing. 

A wayward thing, 
'Tis in the note 
Of meadow lark — 
Of yellow throat; 
And, with their wings, it flits away 
In wantonness, nor will it stay. 

A wayward thing! 

No more my heart, 
But one of wings. 
Of flowers, and songs 
The wood-thrush sings. 
In life that comes only to stay. 
The sunny hours of summer's day, 
I lose my heart! 



27 




Old Nick 

LD Satan keeps his job, you know, 
And slyly, slyly strolls; 
He never wearies, never tires. 
But seeks for human souls. 



He weaves with care his silken net, 

So luring is his bait; 
And busy you will find him, where 

They strike the swinging gait. 

The footlights have a charm for him. 

He's fond of tinsel, too; 
At lace and tights and gauzy things. 

He'll wink an eye with you. 

You'll find him where the money clinks. 
The trump card he will win; 

And in the social little whirl 
He's in the very swim. 

He lingers where the wine flows red. 
And where it sparkles clear; 

While back of all the parson's talk 
You'll often see him leer. 

You'll find him betting at the race. 

The final heat he'll wait; 
It's such a rushing day for those 

Who strike the swinging gait. 



28 




Ivy 

VER the gray, old crumbling towers 
I trail my softest green; 
From view I hide the print of years 
Beneath my glossy sheen. 



How many a dear forsaken nook 

I claim and hold all mine ; 
To closely cling with tiny hands 

Through every change of time! 

O'er granite ledge and cliff I creep, 

I climb the tallest trees; 
I sip the early dew at morn — 

And whisper with the breeze. 

I hold the little feathered brood 

Entrusted to my care, 
And cradle them so gently, when 

The summer days are fair. 

I clamber here, I clamber there, 
O'er tomb — o'er palace wall; 

O'er cottage door — o'er prison cell; 
The same I cling to all. 

Though men and memory may fade 
With Time's once glistening sands, 

Yet through the years of endless change 
I cling with tiny hands. 



29 



A Little Gray Nest in the Cat-Tails 



LITTLE gray nest in the cat- 
tails. 

Four spotted eggs of pale blue. 
Hidden away in the marshes — 

Out in the sunshine and dew. 




Four tiny bills pointing upward! 

Fluttering of downy wings! 
Twittering low, o'er the morsel 

Mother-bird, daintily, brings. 

Four feathered birdlings all tilting, 
Perched on a little gray nest! 

Red-wing, so troubled and guarding. 
Hardly finds time now to rest. 

Four tiny heads, looking skyward — 
Watching the flight of the bee. 

Watching the butterfly sailing — 
Anxious the wide world to see! 

A little gray nest in the cat-tails. 
Swaying, the dull, autumn day! 

Lonely and still are the marshes — 
Red-wings are flown — far away! 



30 




To-morrow We Sleep 

ES, fill our glasses to the brim 
Of sparkling, flowing wine, 
We'll drink to love, the queen of 
hearts 
And fling a hand at time. 



What though it be a bubble's life 

And days are but a few, — 
A truce to trouble, worry, care. 

Old boy — here's health to you. 

Be merry, aye be merry lads 

The embers turn to gray, 
Fill up our glasses to the brim 

We'll speed the hour away. 

Nor spill one drop, e'en quaff the dregs; 

Why — roses blush so deep? 
Ah, here's to thee — and sweethearts, true, 

To-morrow — lo, we sleep! 

Yes, fill our glasses to the brim 

Of sparkling, flowing wine; 
We'll drink to love, the queen of hearts 

And fling a hand at time. 



31 




The Froit 

HY sigh for the spring-time 
And flowers of May, 
For summer's bright roses 
And blossoming spray. 
The frost pane is blooming, 
A garden most fair 
With lilies and poppies 
And fine maiden hair. 

The castles and turrets 

That sparkle with gems. 
The mountains and rivers 

And deep wooded glens. 
The palms from the tropics 

The North's stately pine — 
Why should I be sighing 

The whole world is mine. 

The hand of a fairy 

At night paints for me 
The scenes that I long for 

'Way over the sea; 
The delicate coral 

And moss from the deep, 
While waiting the spring-time — 

The flowers, that sleep. 



32 







Night-Wings 

WILIGHT, dim twilight and musing- 
Fancies that float through the brain, 
Cloud-like and born of the shadows — 
Lost in the drip of the rain. 

Fancies as vain as their 'waking — 

Visions too vain to be true; 
Yet, O how sweet is the dreaming 

Of summer, its roses and you. 

Dreams that hold music and laughter, 
Dreams that are almost like pain, 

Fancies so vapory drifting — 
Lost in the drip of the rain. 

Twilight — dim twilight and musings — 

Dusk with its visions of you, 
Night-wings and gray of the shadows 

Bring summer and roses anew. 



33 




OCrag 

CRAG— gray crag- 
How holds thy granite heart the 

woe — 
Of wave — of sea and winds that 
blow, 
Of storm and fog and tides that flow? 



O Crag— gray crag— 

View thou the waste so bold and tree, 
How cold thy heights; Twould seem to me 
Thy heart would break with moan of Sea. 




O Crescent Moon 

CRESCENT moon with silvery light 
Calm vigil keep the long, long night ; 
O through the shutters silent creep. 
Caress the brow of one asleep. 
Whose life is woven full of care. 
And whisper low, my heart is there. 
Bring pleasant dreams of summer-time. 
Of wood and field and trailing vine, 
Of streams that glide o'er pebbly way, 
Of brooks that purl and laugh all day; 
O scatter roses through the dreams 
You soothe and brighten with soft beams. 
Nor leave until the morning gray 
Shall beckon, calling thee away. 



34 




For You 

MYSTICAL bird in my bosom, 
Is singing, and singing for you, 

Lo, it sings in the dim of the twilight, 
When softly the flowers sip the dew. 



When fades the bright day, when 'tis over, 
And shadows are purple and long, 

Then ever its sweet voice is singing 
As it gives to the world a glad song. 

A song to go drifting — and drifting — 
O'er lands and the ocean's deep blue, 

For the mystical bird in my bosom — 
Is singing, and singing for you. 



Sip from Thy Glass 




MILES for to-day, 

Tears for to-morrow; 
Sip from Thy glass its foam- 
Deeper lurks sorrow. 

Music and song, 
Roses and laughter; 

Haste! sip the sparkling foam 
Sighing comes after. 

Hearts warm to-day 

Cold lie to-morrow, 
Sip from Thy glass its foam 

Deeper lurks sorrow. 

35 




If Only 

F only I might forget — 

Forget your eyes — your smile, 
I'd put you quite away 
To rest my heart awhile. 

I'd dream some quiet dream — 
A dream without a sigh — 

One fleeting, soft and light, 
^.s winds that murmur by. 

I'd rest my heart awhile 

Beyond your eyes — nor yet 

Would I awake too soon. 
If only I might forget! 




Respite 

LITTLE while, dear Heaven. O let me 

keep 
This love held in my heart, that is so sweet ; 
This love, that turns the rose a brighter hue 
And ever gives the sky a gleam of blue, 
That makes each golden sunbeam brighter seem. 
The wind's low voice, love's own fond whispering! 

Dear Heaven ! Oh, just a little while, I pray, 
Yet stay the days, that swiftly glide away; 
To let me have the love, I've hidden deep 
From gaze of those, who would but only weep, 
This love that 'round my heart does roots entwine 
And holds my life its own — not thine — or mine! 

36 




The Chant of the Marsh 

HE woods are full of stagnant pools, 
The swamps are black and deep 
With the dark thick waters of the 
thaw; 

The stillness wakes from sleep, 
A thousand voices rise as one; 
The chant of the marsh has now begun. 

The moss turns green on the fallen logs; 

The air grows sweet and mild ; 
The boxwood buds begin to start; 

'Tis the waking of woods, of wild ; 
The chant goes on, a thousand strong, 
The whole day through, the whole night long. 

A loud caw caw and a lazy flap, 

The spread of ebon wing 
On its aimless flight — o'er dim wood ways, 

Sure harbinger of spring. 
A thousand eyes blink in the sun, 
A thousand voices rise as one. 

The wind goes whispering o'er the land. 

It sways the leafless trees; 
The scattered clouds like whitecaps float 

In their blue and billowy seas; 
The chant goes on, a thousand strong, 
The whole day through, the whole night long. 



37 




Letters 

|NLY her sweet, loving letters, 

Yet quivering now as with pain, 
Like arms they seem madly to 
beckon, 
Entreating, alive in the flame — 
Reaching as though to embrace me, 
As her arms, how many a day! 
Yet, now 'tis the past I would bury; 
So silently put her away. 

Love that once burned in her bosom. 

The flames are now kissing to sleep — 
The pleading, the longing, the heartache, 

To dream in oblivion's deep; 
Hopes and the dear little nothings, 

A fond woman only can say — 
Yet, some way, it seems her heart, burning. 

E'en though I put her away. 

Each page of fondest affection. 

Ah, long have I treasured with care, — 
And now, but a handful of ashes, 

It seems 'tis her heart lying there! 
Love, and a woman's love-letters, 

The Fates all forbid you should stay; 
So e'en though of loves you were sweetest, 

Forever I put you away. 



38 







O Little Island by the Sea 



WAS sweet to come and rest me 
here 
O little Island by the Sea — 
Awhile to idle hours and muse. 
To close commune with God 
and Thee. 



Here undisturbed to gaze and gaze 
Out o'er the tumbling, rolling blue, 

And watch the white-winged ships go by 
To distant ports and pass from view. 

The vastness of this great expanse 
Of ocean, cools the fevered brain; 

Beneath this arch of deep blue sky 
How empty now seems strife and gain. 

Beyond the tumult here, 'tis sweet 
To breathe and taste the briny air, 

To sleep — lulled by the voice of wave — 
Forgetting life holds yet a care. 

Ofttimes I'll dream and sigh for you 

O little Island by the Sea, 
For every heart must sometimes ache — 

I'd then commune with God and Thee. 



39 




Tear-Drops in the Rain 

HE long, long night I cannot sleep, dear 
heart ; 
So many idle fancies crowd my brain; 
I seem to hear a sobbing in the wind — 
The fall of many tear-drops in the rain. 

The creeping hours seem heavy with a grief 
I cannot well express, nor yet may know 

If it be only separation's pang 

Or pain of longing and of loving so. 

If once I might but look upon your face. 

Might touch your hand or hear your sleeping sigh, 

I would not heed the wind or mind its moan — 
Nor yet the rainy tears the storm sweeps by. 

Beyond the dark and loneliness, the space 
That lies between another day and me, 

I know that God will still be kind and just — 
E'en though it seems so deep, so dark a sea. 

Yet as the storm goes sweeping by, dear heart. 
It seems to breathe my wild unrest and pain; 

I hear the sound of sobbing in its voice — 
The fall of many tear-drops in the rain. 



40 




Solace 

E telleth the number of the stars," 
O Heart — sad Heart, thou'rt 
not alone, 
He hears the sigh of autumn winds 
The sobbing voice of ocean-moan. 

Full many a thorn the roses hide, 

Thus smiles are close — how close to tears, 

For sorrow shades awhile each life, 

Our paths are strewn with hopes and fears. 

Yet raise thine eyes and look beyond 

The twilight of thy yesterday 
For life is only glints and glooms 

That come and go then pass away. 

We lose the seasons — in the year, 
The year is lost in drift of time; 

'Tis only shadows linger long — 

The pain of years 'tis thine and mine. 

Yet held somewhere in boundless space 
There's pity in its vast — vast deep, 

"He telleth the number of the stars," 
"He giveth his beloved sleep." 



41 



The Haven 



SI CANNOT hold my heart from straying, 
I m " U dear; 

jA^L*/^ A wayward thing — 'tis winged as a 

ji.-- > --JL dove, 

And through the silent night so dark and 
drear. 
It goes to seek the shelter of thy love. 



The hours may hold for others joy and song. 
The merry wiles that make the world go mad; 

But I — how can I laugh when I but long 
For thee, and when the days are only sad! 

Yet, for this life that seems of thine a part, 
I breathe a prayer each day to One above. 

To still keep warm awhile, the winged heart 
That seeks alway a shelter in thy love. 



42 




Dawn 

10RNING bells, O wake me early 
At the dawn, the peep of day, 
When the first glad blush of morn- 
ing 
Drives the shadow's frown away; 
When the air is full of music 

And the silence melts with song, 

Wake me then, O bells of morning, 

Lingering chimes of early dawn ! 

For the birds my heart will echo 

Every warble, every trill, 
Glad with love that makes life's sunshine 

While with love my pulses thrill; 
lappy just to live while one lives, 

One whose smile can make the day 
And the hours seem moments only, 

As they pass and glide away ! 



43 




Over the Blue-Gray Seas 

UR boat rolled with the billow. 
We drank of the salt, salt breeze. 
From a blue-gray sky — the great red 
sun 
Sank into the blue-gray seas. 



The nearby sails grew dim — 
A part of the same blue-gTay, 

And my once true heart did seem a part 
Of the sea — and drifted away. 

My soul was of the waters — 
A pulse of the throbbing seas, 

While the Harp's soft note did o'er us float. 
To drift — with the salt-sea breeze! 



44 




Across the Starlit Snow 

jjH Y spirit comes to me across the snow ; 

I feel thee near — yet know not where 
thou art, 
Pale are the stars — the wintry winds chill 
blow, 
But I am warmed by thy great generous heart. 

Upon the ebon wings of solemn night 

Thy spirit comes to soothe a troubled hour, 

When weary hope has fled and left the fight, 
Behold, thy strength is here a silent power; 

A power to brave life's tempest and the years, 
When dying embers all but cease to glow, 

When days are dimmed with mist of unshed tears — 
Thy spirit comes across the starlit snow. 



45 




Day-Dreams 

HERE the willows are dreaming — long 
dreaming, 
And the stream has forgotten its tune, 
'Neath the skies that are leaden and sullen. 
With the valley my heart holds commune. 

And the winds that blow cold o'er its bosom. 

As they wander are lonely to me. 
With the call of the woods and the hillside. 

Like a moan from the far, distant sea. 

With the willows I'm dreaming, aye dreaming. 

And my sigh on the winds drifts away. 
O'er the snow and the blankets of winter — 

Just a breath of the cold dreary day. 

Just a breath of the day yet of longing. 
With the valley my heart holds commune 

Where the willows are dreaming — long dreaming 
And the stream has forgotten its tune. 



46 




In Autumn Woods 

TROLLING through the Autumn woods, 
Through the yellow rustling leaves, 
Gathering the brightest ones, 

Weaving, winding into wreaths, 
Over knolls of greenest moss, 
Through the dreamy golden shower, 
Where the sunbeams glance and dance, 
Who would not enjoy the hour? 

Under boughs of oak and beech, 

Voices hushed with cautious tread, 
Listening for the squirrel's bark. 

Till by chatter we are led 
To the nut-tree where he toils, 

Gathering his winter store, 
Just to watch him frisk about, 

Spies are we, but nothing more. 

Drinking deep the drowsy air, 

Listening to the hum of bees, 
Till we lie at lazy length 

In the leaves beneath the trees, 
Slipping farther yet away, 

From the world, its wearied power, 
Eyelids almost closed in sleep. 

Who would not enjoy the hour? 



47 




The Bachelor's Hour 

N the quiet and the moonlight 
As I dream and smoke alone, 
A memory comes to linger 

With the hour that's all my own. 
A tremulous silent moonbeam 
Pauses by my easy chair; 
Its sheen is to my fancy 

Like a tress of golden hair. 

It seems a hand points upward 

As it did a long past day. 
Above the great dark city 

To the bright, the starry way. 
Again I catch the gleaming 

Of a flowing golden tress. 
In the soft and trembling moonbeams, 

Like the hair I would caress. 

When temptation strews my pathway. 

Lo, a hand seems beck'ning me! 
The wind seems softly grieving — 

There's a sadder moan of sea. 
So when the hours are over 

You will find me smoking, where 
The moonbeams pause beside me 

Like the gleam of golden hair. 



48 




Nature's Heart-Beat 

HERE'S life to me 
Where the blue skies smile, 
Where the glad long while 
The winds roam free. 

Where breathe all day 
In the sunny air 
Fields so verdant fair 
Their own sweet way. 

The waving grain 
.Like a restless sea, 
When across the lea 
Comes summer rain. 

The valley haze 
When it lies afloat 
Like a phantom boat 
Of vapor grays. 

Where God is near 
In the spring-time green, 
In the autumn glean 
And winter cheer; 
The vast heart-beat 
In old nature's breast, 
E'en when life means rest 
And man must sleep. 



49 




Lament 

ARE thee well! what more is left me? 
Heaven forgive, and fare thee well! 
All the love to give, I gave thee, 
Fate the arrow aimed, it fell; 
Still, O will you quite forget me 
Now there's left naught but farewell? 
Ever, though my heart is bleeding, 

Will my pulse thrill at your name. 
At your step go madly speeding. 
At a voice, a step the same; 
And though pride be trampled — broken. 

Though my love be spurned away, 
Yet reproach will ne'er be spoken 
For the love that lived a day. 
When each morn comes, with its waking. 

On my lips there'll ever be, 
Though with grief my heart seems breaking, 

Ever still a prayer for thee. 
Fare thee well! what more is left me? 

Fate, the arrow aimed, it fell ; 
Still, O will you quite forget me 

Now there's left naught but farewell? 



50 




The Main Thing in Life, Now, is Fishing 

|T gray break o' day 
We're stealing away 
Here's the season for which 

we've been wishing! 
Care wearies the mind 
We'll leave it behind! 
The main thing in life, now, is fishing! 

Business — 'twill wait! 

With tackle and bait 
And with heart that is light as a feather. 

We're off with the breeze 

That ruffles the seas ! 
A truce to the luck and the weather ! 

Where Dawn wakes from sleep 

The fish in the deep 
With a smile that is silvery and witching, 

We'll tarry a spell 

And rock with the swell! 
The main thing in life, now, is fishing! 



51 




Found 

FOUND you to-day 

In the first early gleam, 
When the shadows were dull and 

gray. 



Your smile fond and true 
In a bright sunny beam. 
As it glanced through a rift of blue. 

Your voice called to me 

From a gay feathered throat 
Out the depths of a leafy tree. 

And hushed was the sigh 

Of the breeze with the note, 
As it idled and murmured by. 

Your love I found deep 
In the heart of a rose, 
AJ1 aflame and so dewy sweet. 

I ling'ring would stay 

Where it red — red grows, 
Lest its petals be swept away. 



52 




By the Sea 

EYOND your voice 

And the touch of your hand, 
Where the blue-green sea 
Wooes the glistening strand, 

I dream my dreams 

In the salt-laden air, 
Where the spray is damp 

On my face and hair. 



I watch the tides 

And the ships that go by, 
And the white winged gulls 

As they circling fly. 

I gaze and gaze 

On that great heaving breast 
With its crested waves 

And its wild unrest. 

And wonder if 

None who sit by the sea 
Feel the throbbing pain 

Of its heart but me. 



53 




Belated 

IS only a sad little rosebud; 

The last one of summer, it grew, 
Along by the path but so lonely 
'Way out in the shadows and 
dew. 



Its short life was only a promise — 
It seemed to me so like my own, 

I gathered and warmed it with kisses — 
It never would bloom all alone. 

It came just too late for the sunshine 
The warmth that would make it a rose 

It came when the bright tinted autumn 
Was silently seeking repose. 

So sadly it drooped with its sorrow, 
I gathered it close to my breast. 

For I, too, was late for the sunshine 
The sunshine that makes a life best. 



54 







A Lifelong Summer-Time 

WANT to live a thousand years 
When it is summer-time; 

When days are sweet with bud and 
bloom, 
With green of trees and vine. 

When winds, soft blowing from the South, 

With kisses lift my hair, 
I want to live a thousand years 

To breathe the summer air. 

To hear the drowsy hum of bees, 

To catch the glint of wings — 
I want to live a thousand years 

The joys that summer brings. 

The freshness of the summer rain, 

The laughter of the brook. 
At morn and eve the twittering 

Of birds from leafy nook. 

The joys that make my heart o'erflow 

With music and with rhyme — 
Yes, let me live a thousand years 

Of joyous summer-time. 



55 




Thanksgiving 

ONG have we wandered and how far. 
Yet home — 'tis like a single star 

That shines to-day; 
Though we are scattered like the 
leaves. 
The winds have rustled from the trees 
To drift away. 

Maybe it is for Mother's sake 

We drop our care — at dawn to wake 

For this one day; 
Maybe it is just love of home, 

Though we, perchance, must dine alone 

And far away. 

E'en though the day be cold and chill. 
In every breast there is a thrill 

Of warmth to-day; 
A living spark — a tiny gleam 
Of home, e'en though we do but dream 

And far away. 



56 




Truth 

O! have I found Thee now, O gentle 
Truth, 
When I despairing fancied Thee, O 
Queen, 
Some fable handed down from olden time, 
When knights were strong and bold, and lances 
keen? 

A myth created in a darker age 

When valor stood and spurned the false — the lie; 
When passion burned more fircely than to-day, 

And when, for honor men would fight and die. 

Lo! have I found Thee now as strong and brave? 

I feared to find Thee fickle as the time, 
Yet would I rather worship still a dream, 

Than know Thee false when I would call Thee 
mine. 



57 



Did You Call ? 

^EAR— did you call? 
So restless are the winds — 

to-night — 
So full of weird strange voices, 
I could not quite be sure — 

not quite. 
Dear, if you called. 




They hold so much — 

Of laughter, grief and pain- 

What know the winds of either- 
The winds that drift and roam 

Yet hold so much? 



Ah, me! 



so free 



Dear — did you call? 

Above the winds — their strength 

Above the weird strange voices, 
I could not quite be sure — 



and might — 



Dear, if you called. 



not quite 



58 




A Midsummer Day 

N the shade of the willows — 
Contentedly fishing — 
Afar from the hum and the world's busy 
way; 



Where the breeze softly billows — 

'Tis there — I am wishing — 
For me yet would linger, this midsummer day. 

Yet, would tarry, forgetting, 

I — quietly fishing — 
Old time striding on — as fleet as the wind ; 

Who'd for business be fretting — 

For world — would be wishing — 
If this day — forgetting — might linger behind ! 



59 




Back for the Yule-Tide 



HO cares for the breakers 
Which beat on the shore! 
Who cares for the storm wave 
Or ocean's mad roar! 

For Granny! You know me! 

Your runaway boy! 
I'm back for the Yule-days 

Yo, ho! Ship ahoy! 

You say I've grown stouter — 
So brown is my cheek! 

Ah, spare me those tear-drops 
They make my soul weak! 

So hang up my stocking 

My wee number ten! 
The world was ours one time — 

How bright it looked then! 

O, do you remember. 
Our go-to-sleep song? 

The prayer I've forgotten 
The years are so long! 

60 



But when through the rigging 
My sleep-song would moan 

A pang shot my heart through 
For you were alone ! 

I've drunk of life's crystal, 
I've emptied the glass — 

I've seen gold that glittered 
And found it but brass. 

I've sailed the seas over — 

Your runaway boy! 
Now hang up my stocking, 

I want a new toy. 



Night 




IGHT creeps 

Day sleeps 

The watcher weeps, 

And darkness spreads her dusky 
wings 
To hide the cares to-morrow brings ! 




Greetings 

LAD greetings, friend, 
May all life's best 

Be thine. 
To hold and keep 
Until thy rest. 

May time 
Forget and sleep. 
That our brief stay 
Of gliding years 

Be not 
Soon swept away — 
Our smiles and tears 

Forgot. 

Greetings. 



* 




Paths 

IIS night, — black night! 
And sleepless eyes 

Peer adown 
The shadow isles — 

Dreamy ways 
Where flowers bloomed, 
One Ly one 
To droop and lie 
A petaled mass 
That rustles when 
'Tis night, — black night! 

62 




Where Fancy Roams 

OND fancy roams 

The twilight gray — 
The dew-damp paths — 

The hidden way — 
Back through the mist-waves 
to your smile 
To rest my heart and dream awhile. 

To dream — to dream; 

Ah, I would stay 
Where life is sweet — 
Where love alway 
Dwells in the shadow of your smile — 
Where love is mine — to dream awhile. 



# 



Gone 

H hush thee, step lightly with gentlest tread, 
For summer, fair summer, lies withered and 

dead. 
I've watched her bright color grow paler 
each day — 
The rose from her lips till she faded away. 
A sadness and loneliness fills now the air, 
For summer's bright smile I miss everywhere, 
And e'en in the call of the birds now I find 
A note low and mournful as swept on the wind. 




63 



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